Flesh and Steel
by Hamstadini
Summary: Summary: In order to save the crew, Harry must reconcile with his past. Author's notes: First fanfic, please review. Chapter 4 up... finally.
1. Default Chapter

Author's note: This is my first attempt at a fanfic. Though I joined up with Fanfiction.net some time ago, I never really had the urge to write anything until now, so please send me constructive criticism via AIM or e-mail.

Disclaimer: I have great reverence for Gene Roddenberry and the universe that he created. All I'm doing is just playing in it. Star Trek: Voyager is his, not mine, nor would I be so dishonorable as to take it away from him. I'll make some aliens for the story, but they're mere ants in a very, very big world that is not my own. So, not mine. Don't sue me.

Flesh and Steel: Chapter 1

The USS Voyager, a Federation vessel stranded in the delta quadrant, is dedicated to two things: 1) Getting back to Earth, and 2) Discovering new life and civilizations, since they were there anyways.

At the moment, they were doing much of neither, and ensign Harry Kim had to stifle a yawn. Surprisingly, the warp core had started degrading well before the predictions of chief engineer B'Elanna and the calculations of astrophysics officer Seven of Nine. In order to understand and fix the problem, they had to it shut down, which meant that Voyager was stuck in space, far from any civilization.

Which meant that while engineers on board were up and about, trying to figure out what was going on with their power source, Harry Kim was stuck monitoring dead space. For the past four hours, he'd been standing at attention waiting for anything, _anything_ to come along and start his day. Unfortunately, nothing came up except for a slight backache from standing for so long.

Captain Kathryn Janeway was not too pleased about the situation either. Every half an hour she alternated between asking Engineering about their progress, and asking whether anything appeared on scanners. Whatever question she asked, the response didn't please her.

This time however, the question was different. "Harry." The captain began.

"Yes, Captain?" Harry replied, and realized with shame that he was slouching. He corrected the problem immediately.

Janeway smiled. "You look bored, Ensign. Why don't you take the rest of the day off, there's no need to have you bored at your station, since there's nothing out there."

Harry felt a brief sense of indignation. He was a Starfleet officer, not to mention an ensign that has had more experience than some lieutenants in the Alpha quadrant. And here his captain was coddling him! He squelched the indignation under a sense of gratitude for having the day off, and hid the internal conflict under a stoic mask. "Thank you, captain."

It was just at that moment that the ops station went dark, then flickered to life. Both Harry and Janeway frowned at the discrepancy, and the rest of the crew looked around in confusion. The power fluctuation seemed to only affect the ops station, and nothing else.

"What is it, Ensign?" Chakotay asked, rising from the seat. Any unusual event on such an ordinary day was worth noting.

Harry switched to reserve internal scanners and scanned the ship. "Nothing. It's just a problem in the EPS conduits on deck 10, only affecting the scanners though."

Janeway tapped her comm. badge. "Janeway to engineering. Can you spare an engineer to go down and repair a conduit?"

B'Elanna's frustrated voice rang over the comm. "Negative, Captain. We have all hands working on the warp core, and we still haven't figured out what happened to it. If we send someone, it'll just take that much longer to figure out what the hell's going on."

Harry spoke up. "Captain, if I may, I'd like to repair the conduit. I have some basic engineering skill, and could patch it up until the proper officers can look into it."

Janeway and Chakotay exchanged amused glances. If Harry was bold enough to volunteer, then he MUST be bored. "Very well," Janeway answered in her faux regal voice. "Ensign Rainworth, take over at Ops."

Harry smiled as the turbolift doors closed. Perhaps this play was a little more boring than most, but at least he got to do something today.

----

Dragging a repair kit alongside his body, Harry made his way through 40 meters of jefferies tube to meet his destination. On normal days, he'd hate to be one of the engineers who routinely gain calluses from crawling through the junctions, but this time it was relief from the monotony of the bridge and exercised his stiff legs. _The only condition that would make this better would be to have Seven crawling in here with me to help_, Harry grinned. Most men and not a few women would like to spend time with the beautiful woman, if only her taciturn manner didn't get in the way. Harry noticed that a more human attitude is starting to brew under the cold exterior; during the incident on the Dauntless, he noted the slight smile that brightened her face after he told her how essential she was to the Voyager crew. Of course, spending time alone with the former drone would mean being subject to odd and somewhat embarrassing questions about humanity. Harry turned red at the memory of Seven demanding him to strip and "copulate" in the name of scientific curiosity. And suddenly, having Seven to himself seemed to be better as just wishful thinking.

Before long, the Tricorder at his side beeped to tell him that he arrived at the junction where the EPS conduit blew out. He was glad he programmed the proximity sensor on the tool, or else he would have crawled right past it while lost in thought. The damage didn't look too extensive; a simple power disconnect, though he couldn't understand how an EPS conduit could just shut down. Harry sighed; leave the thinking to the professionals. All he needed to do was replace the conduit and get back up to the bridge.

Just before he even touched the misbehaving part, the back of Harry's head slammed into the opposite wall as Voyager rocked around him. "Damn!" He cursed, rubbing his head.

Half a heartbeat later, Red Alert sirens began screaming, and blood red lights pulsating cast a crimson glow on the tight corridor. "All hands to battle stations! We're under attack!" Captain Janeway said, a tint of panic edged her words.

Kim, slightly nauseous, started crawling forwards in hopes of finding an exit quickly. Conduit be damned, Voyager's never been this vulnerable ever before and if they were under attack his place was on the bridge. He needed to get there as soon as possible, and the auxiliary sensors would have to do for the upcoming battle.

But it seemed that the Gods of Fortune had something else planned for Harry. Before he could crawl half a foot, another explosion rocked Voyager causing an overload in the conduit in front of him and knocking him unconscious.

----

"Harry. Harry."

Harry opened his eyes the second time he heard his name. From what he could tell, he was in a stone courtyard, with minature stone towers and trees placed at seemingly random intervals. Swords, spears, blunt objects, and all kinds of ancient weapons hung glittering on the courtyard walls. But the speaker was nowhere to be found.

"Harry." The voice called again.

"Yes?" called Harry cautiously. "Who is this? Where am I?"

"Do you not recognize this place, Harry?" The seemingly omnipotent voice sounded disappointed, forlorn. "This is your heritage. This is where you came from, this is who you are meant to be."

"No," Harry started shaking his head and backing up at the same time. "No. My destiny is my own, who I am meant to be. I am not made to be some ancient weapon of destruction. I want to discover! I want to research! This," he proclaimed, gesturing to the weapons on the walls, "this is my ancestor's past, and nothing more."

The wizened voice continued with sorrow, promising future regret, saying. "The more you deny it, the more peril you will find yourself in. Take up the sword, or your family will perish. Take up the sword, and be the savior of your family, as I only know you can, my son."

Harry canted his head to one side, straining to comprehend. "Dad? Is that you?"

Silence.

"Dad?"

_Beep._

"Dad?"

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

----

The shrill beeping of his tricorder brought Harry back into wakefulness. The next thing he noticed was pain. It pulsed in his whole body as a dull ache, making him feel like he was sunburned. His back and head had sharp pains when he moved. It was then that he realized what the tricorder's alarm meant: he was being poisoned by theta radiation by the exposed conduit even as he lay there. Because the way forward was blocked by debris, he painfully brought his body around and made his way back to where he came.

----

With an all mighty heave, he brought himself out of the jefferies tube and into the darkened corridor where the only illumination was from the red alert. The 40 meters had crawled seemed like miles in his weakened state: he would have to go to sickbay and get inoculated. As he walked to sickbay, he tried to get a report from the bridge. "Kim to Janeway."

No response.

He frowned, from both his aches and the communication failure. "Kim to Janeway, please respond."

No response.

"Computer, please locate Captain Janeway."

_"Captain Janeway is not onboard Voyager."_

A chill ran down his spine as he heard the response. Suddenly, he realized that he should've seen people buzzing about, repairing damage or trying to get to sickbay like him. "Computer, locate Commander Chakotay."

_"Commander Chakotay is not onboard Voyager."_

His throat and mouth were dry before, but now they were stuffed with cotton, and Harry found it hard to breathe. Stopping to take a ragged breath, he asked the computer in a trembling voice, "Computer, how many lifesigns are aboard Voyager at this moment, and who are they?"

The computer responded in a cool voice that belied the drastic situation. _"There is one lifesign aboard Voyager."_

Harry's eyes widened.

_"That lifesign is Harry Kim."_

To be continued.... 


	2. Chapter 2

Err, do I have to write the disclaimer every time? I don't want to if I don't have to.  
  
Flesh and Steel: Chapter 2  
  
Harry stumbled into sickbay, his muscles weakened from the walk and his exposure to the Theta radiation that plagued the Jefferies tube he crawled out of. In dimmed light of sickbay he called out automatically, "Computer, activate the EMH."  
  
_"The Emergency Medical Hologram is missing from the database."_  
  
"Damn it!" He hoped that the doctor was merely off line, not missing like the rest of the crew. He had basic medical knowledge, but he didn't know what was needed to cure the radiation. "Computer, what is the prescribed treatment for Theta Radiation poisoning?"  
  
_"The treatment for Theta Radiation poisoning is 20 cubic centimeters of hyronalin."_  
  
Harry's muscles ached as he made his way over to the replicator and created said amount in a hypospray. After injecting the contents into his jugular vein, he flopped onto the biobed, taking a breather to think and rest his body.  
  
Alone, on Voyager? How the hell could this happen? What happened? The last thing he remembered was trying to fix the EPS conduit... when Voyager came under attack... and then he got hit with an overload and came to with everybody gone. Ok, first things first. Apparently, people have gone missing in the middle of a Red Alert. Better make sure the ship's not going to blow up. "Computer, what is Voyager's status?"  
  
_"Shields are down. Hull breaches on deck 3, 9 and 14, with forcefields holding. Life support off line on deck 8."_  
  
Harry sat up, his strength returning. "And the warp core?"  
  
_"Online and stable."_  
  
He breathed a sigh of relief. Now, to find out what happened. As ops officer, he knew that there were monitoring devices placed throughout Voyager all that remains is accessing them and finding out what happened to the rest of the crew. "What is the status of Voyagers internal sensors and monitoring systems?"  
  
_"Functional."_  
  
"Compile all interior and visual readings as of –"he looked at the cronometer that was on his tricorder. Damn, did twelve hours really pass? "- Twelve hours ago and send all information to holodeck three."  
  
_"Affirmative."_  
  
Harry left the empty sickbay, determined to put this mystery to an end once and for all.  
  
----  
  
The moment that Harry entered the holodeck, all uncertainties bled away. The method of solving this mystery involved his career and his pastime: sensor readings and holodeck simulations. With those two subjects being his top two fields, there was no way that he could fail, especially when the crew was on the line.  
  
He folded his hands behind his back while deciding where to start. "All right, show schematic of Voyager with damage reports, along with readings from ship's external sensors, as of 12 hours ago, and playback recording."  
  
Voyager's model, reduced to the length span of his arm, materialized in front of him. For a moment, all was still, then the ship model canted to the side as an energy blast struck the port nacelle and a crimson splotch blossomed on the ship model as a damage report.  
  
Harry frowned in confusion. "Computer, freeze playback. Why is the source of the energy blast not indicated in the scan?"  
  
_"Primary external sensors were offline. Auxiliary systems were online for recording."_  
  
Harry mentally kicked himself. Of course he was working on the main sensors at the time, and the auxiliaries are not nearly as powerful as their counterparts. "Continue playback."  
  
He studied the image intently as the sturdy ship shuddered under additional impacts, but took an involuntary step forward as three ships similar to shuttles entered within the sensor range. They danced around Voyager's phaser blasts, closed in while accelerating at an alarming rate and breached the hull!  
  
"Freeze playback." Harry paced the floor, thinking. He had seen this type of attack before; when Kazon tried to take the ship for themselves, they developed a type of rammer shuttle that could pierce the hull and spill out attackers, effectively neutralizing a whole deck and gaining control of the ship themselves. But if the ship was what the invaders wanted, then why wasn't the whole ship full of them?  
  
"Computer, set playback of internal recording here." At "here," he touched the blossom of red at deck 9, where one of the ramming shuttles was centered. It was closest to Engineering; perhaps he could see the fate of the Engineers.  
  
The wounded ship disappeared, and the familiar but dim corridors of Voyager surrounded him. People appeared, frozen in time, either flying back or crumpling from the shock of the violation. But what took him aback was that in front of him where there should be twisted metal, a shuttle wreck, and alien attackers there was a gap in the hall with exposed holographic arrays.  
  
"Computer, why is there a discrepancy in the simulation?"  
  
_"There was a malfunction in the sensor grid at the point indicated."_  
  
Harry squelched impatience rising inside him. Errors, malfunctions, power outages, all of it seemed bent on favoring this unknown enemy. "Improvise. Fill in the gap."  
  
_"Elaborate."_  
  
Under his breath, Harry swore that he'd have B'elanna reprogram the computer to understand colloquialisms once he found her. "Compensate for discrepancy by overlapping readouts from neighboring points on the internal sensor grid. Use this method for future discrepancies during the playback."  
  
Gradually, the hallway connected again, then the malignant shuttle materialized, and finally the invaders appeared, pouring out of the shuttle's side. Harry jogged toward the shuttle, eager to see the face of this adversary.  
  
The invaders were bipedal to be sure, resembling wolves on earth. But the aliens' fearsome appearance made wolves look like tribbles in comparison. Each invader had a repulsive snarl etched onto their mouths, war paint darkening their savage features even more. They stood 6 feet tall, muscles frozen but still visible through a thick layer of grey fur. In fact, fur was their only covering, aside from a belt tucked neatly around the waist.  
  
Harry shuddered as he circled the first "wolf," which was already on the ground ahead of the pack and frozen in mid-run. Clearly, this was a race that was evolved for war of the very savage type.  
  
Though he suspected he didn't want to see what happened, he needed to find out what became of the crew and these fearsome creatures. Thus emboldened by his urgent curiosity, he licked his dry lips before calling, "Begin playback."  
  
As soon as the word left his lips, everything went into motion. The "wolf" right next to Harry which was a statue frozen in time became a flying blur, a missile homing straight towards the first unwary crewman, throwing him into the wall with a single backhand swipe to the head. The rest of the invading force attacked with blinding speed, knocking unconscious every crewman from the shuttle to the turbolift before the intruder alert was sounded. Afterwords, the "pack" (as Harry was beginning to think of them) paused, looking over their handiwork and the situation. Starfleet translators quickly interpreted their conversation, as Harry walked among them.  
  
One wolf picked up an insensate body by the collar and examined and sniffed the officer nose – to – nose. He tossed the unconscious form aside in disgust and turned to his fellow wolves. "This is too easy. These prey aren't even worth attacking!"  
  
Another wolf spoke up. "Perhaps not earlier, but they must be aware of our presence by now on the ship. Maybe they'll be more of an entertainment now."  
  
When they discovered that the turbolift doors wouldn't open for them, the wolves literally sniffed around for another exit. Unfortunately for the Voyager crew, they found the Jeffries tubes entryway. One after another, they slid in. When Harry followed in, he noticed something: in every Jefferies Tube he entered after them, all the power had winked out. Deck 9 was dim because the shuttle cut into some of the electrical systems, but the Jefferies tubes had a separate electrical system. One possibility was that the power cut out when the ship was hit, but there were no additional attacks after the shuttles crashed. What was going on?  
  
Harry's pondering was interrupted as he was following the pack down the ladder. One of the wolves said in a weak voice, "Grashyyk... I'm not feeling so well..."  
  
The one named Grasshyk snarled back, "What is it? Not feeling weak on the dawn of your fiftieth battle now, are you, Nyman?"  
  
"No... I think there's radiation on this deck..." Then there were guttural sounds and a horrid stench as Nyman apparently threw up what he had for breakfast. There was a growl of frustration, then Grasshyk commanded, "Don't bother climbing down, drop!"  
  
All of the wolves immediately followed the command, letting go of the ladder just before they reached the radioactive Jefferies tube and grabbing onto it again after they passed it, guaranteeing very little exposure to the radiation. Harry, being more prudent and also invulnerable to the holographic radiation, climbed slowly down. When he had reached the juncture with the radioactive tube, his mouth went dry as he recognized the place. Half an hour ago this was where he would be climbing to if a wall of debris wasn't blocking his way.  
  
12 hours ago, bloodthirsty wolves brushed across his path, as he lay unconscious.  
  
After letting that realization sink in, he hurriedly climbed down to catch up with the team that he was following.  
  
The pack hit deck 11 with all the gentleness and civility of a raging hurricane. Though the crew there was better prepared for the assault, it didn't help them any. Even power seemed to take a walloping from the wolves' presence; at every section they came to, the lights went out and consoles went dead. Harry was beginning to suspect that the wolves were more than they seemed.  
  
His suspicions were realized when a security contingent armed with type 3 phaser rifles fired at a charging wolf. Instead of impacting upon his chest, the energy blasts dissipated in an arc, as if the alien had a personal energy shield surrounding him. Then the wolves were upon the hapless team, battering them unconscious. For all their self-defense skills, the team lasted only a few seconds longer than the helpless ensign that the invaders first met on deck 9.  
  
Pausing to only look upon Voyager's best defense with distain, the predators swiftly made their way down to Engineering. Harry struggled to follow behind them.  
  
After five vicious incursions down the hall, the doors to engineering lay undefended. When they wouldn't open automatically, the wolf in front dug his claws in the crack and rent them open like tissue paper. Harry noticed a brief flicker in the doorway. It seemed that the engineers tried to erect a forcefield around Engineering, but even those weren't immune to the wolves' technology. After the lead one penetrated the forcefield, several dozen phasers took careful aim at the alien; the engineers were loath to damage their own equipment. But the numerous blasts failed to penetrate, and engineering was awash with flickering consoles, struggling combatants and futile phaser blasts.  
  
Harry saw Seven collapse as a wolf approached her. Carey went down as a wolf wrestled him to the ground. The doctor dematerialized when a wolf came near him, and then his attacker picked up the mobile emitter and stuck it to his fur like it was some kind of medal. When the dust cleared, the last federation crewmember left standing – barely – was B'elanna, who was fighting the good fight with all her klingon strength and human resolution. Encircled by 5 wolves, she elbowed the one behind her, managed a snap-kick to the one in front her and threw a backhand punch to her left before the remaining two wolves grabbed her arms. She still struggled weakly, though she had no chance against the two burly guards by her sides. One grey wolf, larger than the others and just finishing up his melee with a valiant engineer, regarded the wriggling Klingon with admiration. "You," he said, "are worthy enough for the Consumption."  
  
Then with a press of his belt, he radioed his comrades. "Grashyyk to Mel'gor. Our assault on the engine room was a success. Trae'nor commented that these prey weren't even worth attacking. I'm starting to agree with that assumption." Grashyyk then eyed B'elanna. "Only one was strong enough to put up a decent fight worthy for the Consumption."  
  
A gravelly, disembodied voice echoed in the Cavernous engineering. "Excellent. Our attack on the command center was successful as well. We have captured their leader." His voice twisted with loathing. "The leader was female, even weaker than the others. These aliens make no sense. Why choose a leader who's not strong enough to hold her own?"  
  
"No matter," Grashyyk said, his mouth curling upward in what seemed to be a grin. "All who don't put up an entertaining fight are delegated to slave work, right? They will not befoul our bellies. But you," Grasshyk said, fondling B'ellanna's face, "You will become part of us soon enough, fierce one." He turned and addressed the still standing wolves. "Let's haul these weaklings onto the docking ships."  
  
Harry had seen enough. "Computer, discontinue program," he called out, and then he collapsed to the floor when the sterile, comforting walls of the holodeck reappeared. So the crew was abducted, taken in for slave labor. B'elanna was going to be initiated into "the consumption," a term that Harry didn't know but could hazard a guess. This wasn't one of Tom's tricks; he WAS really alone. What was he going to do? How weas he going to find and rescue the crew? Then suddenly, a sense of peace overwhelmed the panic that was setting in, and a calm, comforting voice said in his head:  
  
_I'll find a way. I always do._  
  
----  
  
26 years ago  
  
George Chang held Harry on his lap in the courtyard on a sunlit day. His son was going to be a fine young man one of these days, he was certain of that. Strong, bright, inquisitive; his son had all those qualities and more. Already, Harry was asking the right questions, his eyes glittering with curiosity. Harry's question was, "Fu qin, what does it take to be a man?"  
  
George struggled to cap his pride as he thought of an answer for his son. George was quite a bit older when he asked a question as deep as the one Harry asked, and that was when his father decided to start passing down the rich heritage of the Chinese family.  
  
Sure, you can look in a museum and educate yourself on the traditions and values of Chinese culture, sterilized and impersonalized so as to be politically correct. But only a lucky few preserved the ancient history and culture of a race for personal use. Thus, the Chang family, George, his father before him, and his ancestors, considered it of grave importance to pass on such knowledge down to future generations, and now was of good a time as any.  
  
"A man, you say? What makes you so curious in such a subject?" George smiled  
  
"'Cause I want to become a man just like you." Harry gurgled.  
  
George chuckled. "I may not be so great a man as you think I am, Harry. But I know what it means to be one. You'd like to know what it means to be a man?"  
  
Harry nodded eagerly, eyes now glistening with anticipation.  
  
George looked up at the sky, as if trying to draw inspiration from the sun itself. "To be a man is complicated, but it boils down to 3 things, the values that I hope you remember all your lifetime.  
  
"Tradition. Tradition is important to keep, because it's all the knowledge that your family has gained over the years. When you have a tough problem you can't solve, little Harry, you turn to tradition for help.  
  
"Honor. Honor is the guide to do what's right in the world, to make sure that you have a clean conscience throughout your life."  
  
"But what's right, fu qin?"  
  
George smiled down at his son. "Hmm.... It's really hard to understand at your age. Perhaps tomorrow we'll talk about it."  
  
Harry frowned, but said nothing. He was always like that; gentle, compliant. George wondered if he was going to grow up to be the man that he wanted him to be. Hopefully, all that will come with time.  
  
"Family," George continued. "Family is the most important thing to a man, beyond tradition and honor. Always protect your family, son. Even at the cost of your life, because the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Family makes up who you are. Even if you die, you will remain immortal through their memory."  
  
"What if you lose your family?" Harry asked.  
  
After chuckling at the boy's cleverness, George said with an air of certainty, "You won't lose your family, son. If I know what kind of man you'll turn out to be, you'll always find a way to bring them back."  
  
Recovered from his despair, Harry exited the holodeck and started walking down the hallway. Despite his calm, he knew he had no idea how to find his crewmates, or how to beat an army of warmongering pack animals.  
  
But he knew where he had to start.  
  
To be continued...  
  
----   
  
Author's note: well, how do you find it so far? Is it good? Is it bad? How so? I especially would like feedback on the flashback scene. I think of a story as a blunt sword; only through sharpening and honing in the furnace can make it quality workmanship. And you, my loyal readers and critics, are my furnace. Only though your comments can this be made into a work of art that I desire it to be.  
  
The fact that George Chang is Harry's father is not a discrepancy; that will be addressed later on. And the values to "be a man," I'm going to have edited by a couple of people who know family values. But so far, I think I'm heading in the right direction. Hopefully, I'll be able to submit a chapter a week, so you'll be seeing frequent posts.  
  
See you around. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 'cause I'm too lazy to repost it. 

Flesh and Steel: Chapter 3

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow as he finalized the modifications to his ops station. Though he did his level best to repair the damage, the bridge still looked like the class nine disaster area that he came into. Apparently, the wolven intruders had a thirst for destruction as well as combat.

The only thing that was going Harry's way was that after the attacking ships had left all systems returned to full power, confirming Harry's suspicions that alien dampening technology was behind the warp core and primary sensor system power failures. Now that primary sensors were online, Harry took extensive scans of the region, hoping to chase after the abductors. Fortunately, the ion signature of the alien vessels decayed slowly, suggesting a vessel of low warp capability. But before he could follow, Harry needed to take care of Voyager.

The first option he had was to track the wolves down immediately using Voyager's long-range scanners and then attempt a full-frontal assault. The consequences would be that the wolves would return fire, and then Harry would have to run around like a chicken without a head trying to hold things together. The wolves, then realizing that they had left at least one potential slave behind, would then board the ship, thus ensuring the maiming and subsequent enslaving or slaying of ensign Harry Kim. So, he decided to put in effect option number two.

He spent the past hour rerouting tactical, helm, and engineering to his ops station. With any luck, he'd be able to control the entire ship temporarily from his console. Scanning with Astrometric sensors, he spied a small, airless planetoid half a light year away. Voyager got there almost instantaneously after Harry set in a course for it at warp 5. But as soon as Voyager dropped out of warp, Harry realized that the plan he outlined might have been more ambitious than he anticipated.

The goal was to drop Voyager off at a hiding place so that roving scavengers wouldn't take it after Harry left the ship in the Delta Flier. After all, what was the point of saving the crew if there was no ship to come home to?

So, he designed a simple enough plan: find a planetoid, land Voyager someplace safe, and take off in the Delta Flier. But now as he actually had to land the ship he had to swallow a dry lump in his throat. The memory of crashing Tom's '69 Camero in a parallel parking disaster on the holodeck came unbidden to Harry's mind. If he couldn't park a 2-meter long vessel, how could he manage to land half-kilometer a one? Harry pushed all his fears out of his mind with a huge sigh; he needed to focus on the task at hand.

Over the years, Voyager's crew has done numerous landfalls, and knew by experience which protocols needed to be followed, and which were absolutely unnecessary. Since he wasn't landing in atmosphere, Harry decided to let bypass atmospheric thrusters and let regular thrusters do the work. At the beginning of the decent, Harry locked in an autopilot code he whipped up for the occasion and settled in the captain's chair, His confidence growing as with every second all seemed to be going as planned.

At which point, the computer decided to inform Harry, _"Warning: spatial ventral thrusters 22 through 25 off-line."_

Harry frowned at the news. Apparently Voyager suffered extensive damage externally as well. "Transfer auxiliary power to the thrusters."

_"Transfer incomplete. Warning: structural integrity field failing."_

"Oh hell."

The bridge turned into a fireworks display of epic proportions as every power conduit overloaded and the ship whined under a thousand gees of stress. Harry lunged for the helm and he felt like he was swimming through water as everything seemed to slow down. He felt the ship buck violently as the secondary hull chafed against the tip of a mountainside. When his finger grazed the controls after what seemed to be an eternity, he brought the ship under heel by rerouting all power from secondary systems to those that were still working, compensating for the damage. Even so, Voyager had a hard landing, a small dent was created in the moon by the momentum of the descent, and Harry couldn't see the surface of the moon through the screen for the dust that flew upward.

Recovering from the close call, Harry dazedly made his way over to his flickering ops station through the dust cloud that had been disturbed in the landing and accessed damage control. The results were not promising; all propulsion systems were badly damaged by the crash. They nearly exploded from the strain of holding up Voyager for those scant few seconds, and there was no way that Voyager was going to get off the ground without extensive repairs from a specialized engineering team.

Harry rested his right elbow on the console and rubbed his temples vigorously with his right middle finger and thumb, hoping to massage away the migraine that was rapidly forming at those areas.

In his head, a familiar voice was somehow simultaneously laughing and saying, "I told you so" simultaneously.

---- 

20 years ago

George positioned the mannequin in exactly the way he wanted it to be; right leg forward, right fist straight out, as if frozen in mid punch. He then stood abreast of the mannequin, admiring his simple handiwork, then in a blur he swept the punch aside with a left hand block and pinned the mannequin's chest to the floor with his knee, right fist cocked and ready to punch its face if the mannequin had a mind to struggle under the hold. Satisfied that the crisp execution of the move, he got up and brushed the dust from his training clothes. He looked instructively at his son. "And that's how you execute a counter-attack," he said in fluent Mandarin.

Harry stood there, arms folded over his chest, observing quietly. Then his head cocked to the side, a sure sign that he was going to ask a question. George sighed quietly. For two years he trained the boy in martial arts. Harry had a natural affinity for it, so that given enough time, he may surpass his father if he was disciplined enough. And disciplined he was, up until the point where his brother, Michael was born a month ago. After the newborn was added to the family, Harry's mouth was filled with a deluge of questions. George may have fast physical reactions from his years of martial arts training under his father, but the questions that Harry posed left George somewhat tongue-tied for an answer.

Harry's mouth opened; George braced himself.

"Why do we have to do all this hard work?" Harry asked in Federation Standard English. "Why can't we just own a phaser, and stun the bad guys?" He grasped an imaginary phaser and fired, sounding out a "BOOM!"

George didn't realize that all his shoulder muscles were tense until they relaxed after Harry asked the question. He could easily answer it; it was just a matter of phrasing it so that the young child could understand. "Where did you learn that a phaser could solve all our problems?" George asked gently, in the same language. Despite all of the father's requests to use Chinese in the house, Harry refused to remember the request, much to George's exasperation. He supposed learning the standard language was essential to Harry's survival in the working world, but that doesn't mean he can't respect his parents' wishes once in a while.

"Defender Dave uses phasers all the time to beat up the bad guys." Harry said.

This time, George let out a loud sigh. Yet another one of those episodes of "The adventures of the U.S.S Heracles and its mighty captain, Defender Dave!" Those holovids were going to kill him sooner or later, George mused silently.

George stepped off the stone tiled patio, and sat upon the wooden stairs leading into the house. He motioned Harry to do the same. Obediently, the son sat on his left, not so much as making an errant sound, a skill that was impressive in one so young; training clothes tend to make a lot of noise when one moved his body, and when the clothes were silent, it meant that there was fluidity and grace about the body, two elements in martial arts that were the hardest to master.

George refocused on the task at hand, carefully outlining his explanation. Regardless of the talent that Harry had, if he refuses to practice it, he'll be as skilled as any other novice. Thus, the reasons must be explained clearly and carefully, so that Harry will continue to practice with as much devotion as he first started out. George took a breath. "Has Defender Dave ever shot one of his friends by accident?"

"No."

George sighed, this was going to be a lot harder than he thought. "Well what about the bad guys?"

Harry's face lit up as he answered the question excitedly. "Oh yeah! They shoot their friends by accident all the time!"

"Well, do they look dumb or smart when they do that?"

"They look very dumb," Harry replied after a thoughtful response.

"Well, that's what happens when you use your phasers, instead of your head." George said in a sagelike voice, tapping his temple. He got up and moved to the center of the courtyard, hoping his head would be clearer there.

"A phaser is ... a phaser. It has no mind of its own, no cares about whom it hits. Even worse, it only takes a second to knock someone out, or to kill him or her. So, my little Harry, what happens if you point a phaser to me, and accidentally press a button?"

The panic on Harry's face also brought dawning comprehension.

"If the bad guys were taught martial arts, then they wouldn't hit their friends with phaser blasts, and they wouldn't look so dumb." George cocked his head to the side pensively. "Then again, martial arts also would teach them discipline, the values of the law and respect for others, so then they wouldn't be bad guys."

Then, George kneeled, seeing eye to eye with the sitting Harry. "Even so, what would Defender Dave do if his phaser broke? How would he prevent the bad guys from hurting him?"

"I dunno."

"With martial arts and some good thinking. The machines that humans make can break down, Harry. They aren't perfect. And when it comes down to it, only we can fix them, too. That's why we shouldn't be reliant on machines, only ourselves. And that's why you're learning this, so that when technology fails, you'll still be able to handle yourself."

Even as he laid out the argument to Harry George realized that there were a dozen ways his quick-witted son could poke holes through it. Hell, even to his ears it kind of had a false ring to it. He'd like to blame it on the fact that he was tired from demonstrating and practicing with Harry all morning, but the simple truth of it was that he simply didn't have justifiable answers for his son on why they should eschew technology. All George knew was that this combat form was a legacy that needed to be preserved, and he didn't know if Harry would see it his way for a while yet.

To George's relief, Harry smiled and nodded as if he were in complete agreement with his father's reasoning.

But George thought that his son's eyes told a different story.

George smiled at Harry, a tint of sadness the only hint of the disappointment that George felt. "One of these days, Harry, technology will fail you, maybe even make things worse, and you'll know exactly what I mean."

----

Harry strode through the dimmed corridors of Voyager, making his way towards Shuttlebay one. By shutting down most of the systems, the ship's energy profile was greatly reduced, making it practically invisible to alien scanners. One system that was kept online was the shields, modified to deflect passive scanners in the off chance that someone else might drop by the system.

The chill of outer space was just starting to permeate the atmosphere as Harry boarded the Delta Flier. With him he carried several proximity charges, a medical kit, a tricorder, and a compression rifle, all modified with some Borg technology that Seven taught him to use. He hoped that the combined technology would adapt to whatever dampening field the aggressive aliens had in place. Other that, the half-baked plan was tenuous at best; he was no Captain. He couldn't think of plans on the fly, so all he could hope to do was find the crew all in one piece.

Once on the Delta Flier, he manually overrode the shuttlebay doors. As the Delta Flier ascended into space, he shot a look of pity at Voyager, which he wasn't used to leaving in such a condition.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be his last look.

----

Space never looked so bleak, Harry realized, especially in the Delta Flier. Most of the time it didn't seem so bad, of course, but that was when Harry was with people, conversing about life on Voyager, sharing new experiences, and doing the various and sundry. Certainly Harry wouldn't forget the time that Neelix won a game hearts against him, Chakotay and Tom, by shooting the moon before he knew what shooting the moon even was. THAT caused a lot of noise.

But now, a deathly silence hung in the air of the Delta Flier as Harry tried to figure out what his next move was while the Delta Flier was still at warp. What he needed was help at finding out who these aliens were, and who would be able to fight against him. It was too bad, really here was Harry's big break, the one that could show that he was a capable Starfleet officer, but one misstep could kill everyone he ever cared about, and he really didn't have a clue what to do next, except scan the area and follow the attackers to gain more information about them.

A lone chime heralding the Delta Flier's reentry into normal space brought Harry back to reality. His fingers hovered over the console, planning to scan the area and get on the trail as soon as possible.

One of life's lessons, however, is that nothing goes as planned.

_"Proximity warning: Alien vessel detected." _

"What? Where? " Harry looked around worriedly.

But before he could reply, all systems shut down, leaving him in pitch-black darkness, save for the stars peering through the Delta Flier's viewport.

Then the lights of the alien view blocked out that vista. It was relatively huge compared to the flyer, about half the size of Voyager. It was circular in structure, with pods of all sorts sticking out of all different sides. It reminded Harry of K-7 station from Captain Kirk's days.

The alien ship locked a tractor beam on the Delta Flier, and then Harry knew that he was going to be boarded. He checked his equipment, holding out hope that somehow the borg enhancements somehow adapted to the dampening field.

Dead. The only way the phaser would do its job is if he managed to knock out one of the wolves when he threw it at them.

Having nothing else to do, Harry braced himself for the oncoming assault through the aft door as the Delta Flier drew ever closer to being boarded

To be Continued...

Author's Note: Yes, I know I haven't updated a lot recently. That's because for some reason, this was the hardest installment to write yet. I've been working on a couple of other projects as well, so this hasn't been able to occupy all of my time. Some of the stuff that I've come up with I hope will be enjoyed on my own website sometime in the future. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, please.

Author's Prescript: quick edit has been giving me some trouble with page breaks, so I've had to include a letter along with it. Whenever you see ---a---, it means a page break, OK? Thanks for your patience.

Flesh and Steel: Chapter 4

Harry sat in the darkness of the Delta Flyer's aft cargo hold. It seemed like an eternity ago that he heard the thump of the shuttle landing in an alien shuttle bay, and at any moment he expected a dozen wolf invaders to come crashing through the aft egress port. And with the dampening field deactivating all of the technology including phasers, he had nothing to work with except his own two hands.

The environmental controls must be out too, which is probably why his lungs felt like they were sucking in gelatin instead of air. He was practically wheezing, dizzy from the effort of trying to get oxygen.

The aft egress hatch cracked open, and Harry's eyes darted around, looking for something to defend himself with. But he had nothing no tool no weapon just his hands and God it's been years since he's practiced hand to hand self defense –

The hatch blew inward, and bright light flooded Harry's eyes, blinding him temporarily. When his vision cleared, he saw an odd little man, barely coming up to his waist, tufts of hair sticking out of the temples of his otherwise bald head, and an aged white beard coming down to his chest. Harry was reminded vaguely of Albert Einstein for some reason.

Flanking the diminutive alien were two white wolves, bigger than anything that Harry saw in the Holodecks.

Harry gulped, but there was nothing to swallow in his dry mouth.

Then the small alien spoke.

"I think you'd better come with us."

---a---

"Will someone tell me what the Hell is going on here!" Harry said as he was escorted into the room by the two flanking wolves.

The room had a round table at its center, chairs placed at even intervals with consoles protruding at the sitting places. In the very center of the table there was a circular dish and a light shining down upon it, so Harry speculated that it was some sort of holo-projection device.

It was a far cry from the torture room that Harry had imagined himself being taken to.

Then a door on the other side of the room slid open, and more aliens came through them. Like Albert who greeted him beforehand, these aliens were diminutive and looked old, with white coats on over black slacks and shirts. Unlike the wolves that apparently served them, these aliens didn't appear to rely on brute force, but intellect and insight.

The aliens started to take seats down by the conference table. Albert – the one who "greeted" him when he first came on board - said, "Please, have a seat."

"I'll stand, thanks," Harry said, with a bit of an edge in his voice. Let's face it; he was tired, he was hungry, an unknown alien force had abducted his crew, and now he was captured by an alien race that could be very well in league with that force, if the two white wolves were any indication.

"Very well," the alien said, ignoring the apparent defiance. "I apologize for not making introductions earlier, but it was necessary for you to be situated in a more comfortable setting before we could give you knowledge on our dilemma. My name is Sabani. The female to my right," He said, gesturing to an aged-looking woman with flowing green hair, "Is my genetics officer, Katani, and the one on my left," gesturing to an elderly man with a full head of red hair, "Is Murani. He is my main engineer, and is very resourceful with technology."

"Ensign Harry Kim, Federation Starship Voyager. All right, now that introductions are made," Harry said, voice tight, "can you please tell me where my crew has been taken and why?"

"I regret to inform you that your crew has been taken prisoner by Timilians through a mischance, and that we are to claim responsibility for their actions," Sabani said with what sounded like a mirthless chuckle.

Harry reigned in his impatience and let Sabani speak.

"We are the Arcosians, a race of explorers and scientists. For eons, we have developed our minds and sciences, delighting in the pure joy of endless exploration. Even though we developed Warp Drive in the earliest stages of civilization, it took a thousand years before we lost sufficient interest in our own world to venture out and discover new worlds and interests."

Murani piped up, a low voice filling the room. "It was there, in space, that we discovered that not all were as content with science as we are. The Kazon, the Krenim, the Vaduuar; they were more content to war, and to conquer. We were not like that; by some fluke of creation, we did not wage aggressive action upon each other. When one of our kind harms another, even if it was an accident, he undergoes a severe mental trauma. We don't know why this is so; perhaps our aversion to violence is biologically inclined. The fact remains however that we cannot destroy another life form, not even to defend ourselves."

Realization suddenly hit Harry. "YOU can't kill, so you _created_ life to defend your people, suing your advanced sciences."

Katani nodded feverently. "We developed the Protectors, defenders of our colonies, our ships, and our worlds, designed for close-combat situations." She pushed a button on the console, and in the center an image sprang up of a White wolf behind him. "The Protectors boast a triple redundant cardiovascular system, rapid regenerative ability, heightened senses, ultra dense skeleton and musculature, and an ultra-responsive nervous system," She said with a mix of pride and regret. "They are the first, and the finest, defensive genetic creation we have made." She nodded to the two White wolves standing behind him. "Gaguar and his wife Tsinil are the two progenitors to the Protectors."

"However, they were the only ones who turned out as we desired," Sabani joined in, his face falling at the memory. "We tried to use techniques to genetically disposition the Protectors to docile behavior, attacking only when it was absolutely necessary. However, the first generation actually grew agitated and restless in our passive environments. Genetic alterations in later generations seemed only to exacerbate the problem." He shook his head, as if trying to wake from a nightmare. "I was there when the first Protectors revolted on colony 146, calling themselves Timillians – the chaotic – and slaughtering everything between them and the space port: adults, children, animals. We should've anticipated that our own creation would turn against us, but we were too sure in our technology. They escaped to places unknown, taking with them our personal energy dissipaters."

"Personal energy dissipaters?" Harry echoed. He'd never heard of that term before.

The request for an explanation seemed to clear the emotional grief from Sabani's eyes. He tapped a few places on his console, and a belt materialized over the projector – the same belt that Harry saw on all of the Protectors.

"These belts," Sabani explained, "Generate a field that pushes high voltage energy out of it's radius. It is both a shield and a dampening field of sorts; only specially treated electronics can enter the field at full operational power. That's why the Protectors were designed for close combat; these fields would neutralize any long-range combat. These they stole and enhanced with language translation and communications systems, making this the only piece of equipment that the Timillians need. There are larger, more powerful versions of these generators on all our ships, including the ones that the Protectors stole. With this technology, the Timillians have been ambushing ships and engaging in close combat, then disappearing to a hidden location. And now, we need your help."

"My help?" Harry scoffed. "I don't know if I can be of any help at all. My crew's been taken and I'm the only one left. And if you can't find your creations, then how can you expect me to do any better?"

"Your main ship," Sabani explained, "has sensors that, while primitive compared to our standards, are somewhat unconventional. If we return to it, the sensors may be able to look for something that our sensors might have missed."

"I see," Harry agreed. The astrometric sensors were his and Seven of Nine's creation, a blending of borg and federation technology. Now that he had some knowledge of what he was dealing with, maybe they'd find something. "What happens after you find them, though?"

Sabani chewed on his bottom lip, openly apprehensive. "Hopefully... we'll be able to find some passersby who will be able to deal with the situation. We would be able to point them in the right direction."

Harry fought the urge to laugh. "That's a big maybe."

"We have no other way of dealing with the Timilians. We are biologically disinclined to violence, as you recall. Any conscious thought of disabling or destroying life is detrimental to our health."

"Not even a way of restraining them?"

"Not even."

Harry closed his eyes in silent agony. He had finally got some information on what was going on, but he was dealing with a people who were so adverse to killing, they could not help with getting the crew back.

He wondered why this attitude seemed so darned familiar.

---a---

12 years ago

_Thwack! Crack!_

George regarded his sons, who were frozen in a moment of mock combat in the large, stone courtyard. For years now his two sons Michael and Harry had been practicing martial arts disciplines that ran through the family; first, only hand to hand combat, then armed with various weapons of the medieval times. And as expected, Harry won most of these duels through more experience and discipline.

But recently, Harry had been slacking and it showed. Now his skill with the wooden sword had degraded so badly that his eight-year-old brother had easily slipped a blow past Harry's halfhearted block, rewarding him with a huge red welt across the cheek.

George's eyes narrowed in concern. "Michael, go wash up and prepare for dinner. I need to talk to Harry about his practicing routine."

Dutifully, Michael bowed and left, his training clothes rustling as he swept up to the doorway leading into the house.

George focused on his other son, who glared blatantly back at him, the mark on his cheek glowing angrily in the setting sun. Once George was sure that Michael was out of earshot, he began. "Of course, you haven't been practicing, have you?"

Harry's eyes colored a defiant obsidian as his chin rose up defiantly. "I fail to see the point of using such ... barbaric techniques, especially ones that are directly against Starfleet policy."

George looked at him warily, his senses on full alert already. They had this argument a thousand times, and a thousand times each one had come away failing to convince the other to give in. It had gotten to the point where father and son could predict what the other was going to say next.

"If I remember correctly, Starfleet necessitated the use of such 'barbaric techniques,' especially during conflicts with Romulans and Klingons." George replied, pointedly emphasizing the Harry's own words.

"The federation is a society of explorers and scientists who were use weapons only as a last resort," Harry countered. "What you're suggesting is that in lieu of phasers which can stun an enemy without harming them, we should wade in breaking bones and rupturing spleens!"

"What I'm suggesting," George said coolly, "is that we need to deal with an enemy in such a way that he would never attempt such an act again. You forget that this form of martial art has been passed down through our family for millennia. All I'm asking of you is that you practice it in order to preserve –"

"Preserve our heritage?" Harry gave one sarcastic, mocking bark. "What you're asking me to do is to perpetuate a stereotype."

There was a deathly silence as George factored this new opinion in the debate with astonishment and shock. "Do you really think that what we're doing here is stereotyping ourselves?"

"There are other ways of showing 'unique' culture, father," Harry said in a scathing tone. "We could've taught the lessons of Confucius, who preaches respect. But instead, you show our culture to be a warlike and aggressive race, one that hardly benefits the Federation."

George shook his head. He realized that he and his son had different opinions on the matter, but he didn't realize how different they were until this point. He shook his head, disagreeing. "Even in Starfleet, when facing the unknown, one has to be prepared for unexpected circumstances."

Harry threw his hands up and turned his back toward his father, lost in teenage sarcasm. "Oh, sure, father. What a great way to make first contact with a new species. 'When we can't use our stun settings on you, we need to hit you with our bare fists until you drop from the damage!' Under you, father, you know what the Federation would be? The Mongolian Empire, living all for the glory of conquest and the pleasure of seeing others suffer."

George shook his head. That wasn't it, wasn't it at all. And deep down, he knew that his son knew. But Harry was too deep in his fury to even permit an argument. "You know what," George said, "I'm too tired to argue with you. But you can count that we are going to talk about this tomorrow."

"Fine by me," Harry snapped, and he impudently made his way back up to the house.  
  
George sighed and followed.

But what neither son nor father knew was that tomorrow's conversation would never come.

---a---

Harry comfortably sat on the plush leather couch, reading what passed on the Arcosian vessel as a padd. Despite the fact that at a warp speed of 4 the vessel would be at Voyager in under half an hour, the aliens felt guilty about what had transpired and accommodated Harry with comfortable living quarters food and drink, even after Harry mildly protested at the generous but wasteful thought. They'd also provided him with information, stored on the padd, on what they knew about the Timillians based on evidence on assaulted vessels and ship movements.

If Arcosians were scientists and explorers, then it stood to reason that they were exceptional investigators and anthropologists as well, which made what Harry was reading all the more frightening in all its supposed accuracy and detail. As he scrolled down through the reading, and corroborated it from the security holorecording, bitter horror started to rise up in his throat like bile.

_The Timillians,_ he read,_ while an anarchic and savage race, have nevertheless developed a version of a culture that has been quite fascinating - and terrifying - to observe. Despite efforts by geneticists to curb their aggressive tendencies, it appears to be ingrained in their neurological patterns, perhaps a characteristic of their creation. From the records we gathered on abandoned ships, there is no rhyme or reason to the attacks, save for the simple pleasure of combat, to be challenged and tested physically to the point of death. To state it simply, the Timillian philosophy is to conquer or to be conquered._

_And to be conquered is not a thing to be desired. We have little first hand evidence of what happens to the captured from vessels abandoned after battle, but we do have a detailed report from Ratani, the only Arcosian scientist to survive as one of the conquered for eight years - long enough to escape and send the wealth of information in a subspace transmission. It is unfortunate that he was killed before he could transmit the coordinates of the Timilian's habitat; we would have been able to find someone to contain the species long ago. But the report was valuable to our studies nonetheless._

_The Timillians have developed a quasi-religion based on the combat that they face. They believe that they suffer greatly, and the only way to relieve that suffering is through the challenge personal combat with other species. To die in battle is a great honor, but to be challenged and still win in battle is the greatest honor. Accordingly, the conquered are treated little less than slaves, due for hard labor, construction, and integration of technology. Occasionally, there are those individuals or races that are "worthy," ones who have resisted to the Timillian's satisfaction. When the worthy are conquered, they are killed and consumed after nine days of ritual celebration, as the Timillians believe that if they digest the flesh of such formidable foes, they will gain their foes strength, knowledge and experience. They believe it is a great honor for the worthy as well, for the souls of the worthy are then immortalized within the Timillian bodies._

_Though the Timillians relish their personal combat, they rarely have altercations between themselves, taking out frustrations on the conquered instead. It is believed that they have a leader of the race, though his appearance and identity are unknown. However, it can be assumed that he serves as a master strategist, a mediator, and a religious leader._

_It should be noted that all the research that has been done has not been current for the past year, as the Timillian ships have taken to destroying the conquered's ships after the captives are safely transported back to their habitat.  
_

Harry had had enough. He tossed the padd to the wood-simulated floor, watching it skid along until it hit the far wall. All the pieces of the puzzle were clicking into place: the unprovoked attack, the complaints about "lack of entertainment," the comment about B'ellana being worthy for "the Consumption."

With the rest of the crew captured and enslaved, he only has eight days to locate and rescue them all before B'elanna becomes an object of immense discourse – the discourse used in dinner conversations.

It was a tall order, but maybe the Arcosians could still help him –

"_Sabani to Ensign Kim."_

Harry turned around to see that a screen had just activated, showing Sabani's face. "Yes?"

"_We have reached the desired co-ordinates. However, there are complications."_

Harry frowned, confused. "What sort of complications?"

There was a loud crash, followed by a quake so violent that Harry had grip on to the seat to keep from being tossed out; a telltale sign of an enemy doing damage

"_Those kinds of complications."_

"What's going on?" Harry asked, though he knew half of the situation already.

"_When we dropped out of warp, a Timillian raiding party was already there, consisting of one attack vessel and two raiding vessels. One of the raiding vessels has crashed into us," _Sabani said somberly. _"External communications are down, transporters are offline, and our Energy dissipater is malfunctioning."_

Harry swore. This was turning out to be the worst week he had. With external communications and transporters down, the only way to contact Voyager was to sneak past the wolven creatures, get to the Delta Flyer and hope he doesn't get shot down while reactivating the power systems. Talk about running the gauntlet. "You said something about a raiding party. Where are they now?"

He jumped up as he heard a loud bang, much closer this time, and not from weapons fire. He turned toward the door to see a large claw shaped dent in the metal.

Sabani nodded, confirming Harry's worst fears. _"They are on your deck."_

Harry turned wide-eyed toward the alien captain. "Is there any way to get to my ship other than through that door?"

"_There is an egress hatch in the far wall. I have downloaded directions into the padd that we gave you; it's the most direct route to the shuttle bay. Good luck."_ The viewscreen winked out of existence, leaving Harry alone, and very much afraid.

A second bang brought him to reality. He scrambled to the floor to pick up the padd, and then rushed over and practically ripped the egress hatch door off its hinges. He crawled inside and shut the door a heartbeat before the room door gave away with a loud rending sound.

As he stole down the Jefferies tube, he could hear the growling conversation of the animalistic aliens.

"Seems like we didn't capture all of the prey after all, Growreerr."

"On oversight like this seems... amusing. Perhaps he will prove to be more of a challenge than the rest of the human lot."

"All I know is that we just missed him; his scent is still hanging in the air."

"Good job, Marlrandish. Spread out, find out if he's hiding or running from us."

That was all the impetus Harry needed to crawl as fast as he could down the tunnel. His mind and his body both raced as he followed the directions on his padd while devising a way to literally throw the wolves off his scent.

Five minutes later, Harry winced as he heard the egress hatch door actually being rent off its hinges. There wasn't much time left to devise a diversion... absent-mindedly he wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.

Then he looked at the hand and an idea came to him. It wouldn't get him any more than a couple of minutes, but perhaps that's all he needed.

He sat down in the middle of the tunnel and got to work.

---a---

After what seemed to be an eternity later (though in reality it was only ten minutes), Harry found the exit he was looking for. After cracking the door open and making sure the coast was clear, he crawled out and resisted the urge to blush. Now was not the time to gain a sense of modesty over his state of undress.

But the sacrifice for his embarrassment probably paid off. As the diversion, he stripped off his Starfleet jumpsuit and undershirt, and toweled himself off with it, making sure that he was completely dry of perspiration. Then he threw the wad of clothes down the nearest ladder, so that the tracking party would be confused. Most likely, they would follow the stronger scent from his clothes. At the very least, the party would be halved. Since he didn't encounter any furred aliens in the junctions or heard any growls behind him, he assumed the diversion worked.

Unfortunately, no Arcosian was aware enough to even take humor in Harry's mild predicament. Their bodies were scattered throughout the hallway, slumped over like rag dolls someone carelessly threw to the ground. Obviously, the Timillians came through there as well.

Harry snuck along the corridor, keeping one eye on the map that his pad had generated. According to it, all he needed to do was turn the corner and go down the hallway to reach the shuttle bay. He smiled in relief; he was going to make it.

He turned the corner, still looking at his pad, and promptly slammed into something solid. He frowned in blustered confusion. There wasn't supposed to be a wall here. And since when do ships have walls with fur coats?

Realization dawning on him, he gazed up into the sneering face of a wolf.

It picked him up by the throat and slammed him into the wall. A wave of pain engulfed Harry's body as it took the shock. For a second, he could only stare numbly at the wolf as it grinned savagely back at him.

"So, a human did escape our first attack. I knew that we underestimated your species," it said. "It's a pity that your kind is so weak. If you were as strong as you were resourceful, perhaps you would be an interesting challenge. But as it is, you'll have to suffer along with the rest of the slaves." He relaxed his grip as he gave the wolven version of a hearty laugh.

Seeing his only chance at escape, Harry spat directly into the wolf's eyes, blinding him momentarily. With all his strength, he then lashed out with his boot, knocking the alien's head to one side. In surprise, the Timillian dropped him, and he tore down the corridor.

The hallway seemed to stretch to infinity as Harry vaulted over the Arcosian bodies. Though he dare not look back, he could hear the wolf roaring in frustration as it gained on him. He ran and ran, and ran and he saw safe haven, almost there...

The doors opened automatically, and Harry keyed in a Borg locking sequence with the padd still gripped in his hand. He sighed in relief as the wolf howled and pounded on the other side, with no avail.

But he was all business again when he entered the cockpit of the Delta Flyer. Though he was safe from the close combat horror, there were still two ships out there looking for blood. It would take all of his piloting skills to evade them and make it to the landed Voyager. He keyed in the launch sequence, and with his trusty padd opened the doors.

Like a sparrow from a crocodile's mouth the Delta Flyer shot out of the shuttlebay and made a beeline for the moons surface. It's flight did not go unnoticed by the two ships hovering nearby like predatory hawks waiting for fish. Immediately, the bulbous raiding vessel gave pursuit from behind, while the more conical attack vessel sped its way to cut the Delta flyer from the front.

An attack rocked the smaller ship, and not for the first time Harry cursed his skittish nature. In his rush to get away from the hand-to-hand battle, he forgot to reroute the tactical station to helm control. Now, a ship was firing at him, and Harry couldn't reach tactical control behind him unless he wanted to lose precious seconds of control.

Another blast shook the Flyer, and Harry could hear one of the EPS relays exploding. "Delta Flyer to Arcosian Vessel!! I'm under heavy fire! Perhaps you should retreat to a safe distance – just in case."

"_Negative, Ensign Kim,_" Sabani responded. _"We have devised a way to stop them."_

"I thought you said that you had no weapons," Harry said.

He got no response.

Frowning, he called out to the computer, "Display viewscreen of aft sensors."

On the monitor to his right, a view came up of the space behind him. There was the small, seedlike vessel, closing slowly and firing beam weapons frequently. Then the Arcosian vessel lumbered into view, effectively blocking the raiding vessel from pursuit.

Harry's heart caught in his throat as what he predicted came true. An explosion blossomed and outlined the science vessel as the raider crashed into the hull at a critical point. Then the ship shuddered, and Harry knew that very soon that the power system on the ship was going to reach critical mass.

Another blast drew Harry's attention to the front, and he saw the attack vessel bearing down on him, bent on a collision course. With shields down and weapons unavailable, and with his only ally disabled behind him Harry could only watch wide-eyed as the ship barreled toward him, on a course toward oblivion.

End of chapter 4

Author's Post Script: An update, FINALLY!!! I'd never thought I'd get this done, but I pushed through somehow. It's been so long since I've updated that you may see some continuity errors between chapter 4 and the rest of the series. If you spot any errors, please e-mail me or leave a review. I promise that after the series is done, I'll correct the errors. I have ambitious plans to get this done by the time school starts (September 20th) but somehow I'd doubt I'd make it. In the meantime, I'm going to start work on chapter 5 immediately.

Happy reading, everyone.


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